


Coming Home

by EclecticMuse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Airports, Angst, F/M, FZZT, Fitz is very thoughtful, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future AU, Gen, Jemma is very appreciative, Missing Scenes, Perthshire, Perthshire Cottage, Sci-Ops Era (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), but the focus is on Fitz and Jemma, other characters get a brief mention, pre-season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma's thoughts on the movie Love, Actually inspire Fitz to do something that turns into a tradition between them. Or: a few of the times Fitz was there to welcome Jemma home, and the one time he wasn't.</p><p>Written for the Fitzsimmons Network 2015 Secret Santa Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookishandbossy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishandbossy/gifts).



> This is for bookishandbossy, who gave the prompt "Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport." I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas and happy holidays! <3
> 
> Thanks go to agentverbivore for cracking the whip and making sure I got this done on time, and to StarryDreamer01 and SuburbanSun for being excellent betas (and helping me avoid some crucial plot gaffes!). Look, ma, I wrote some fluff!

_0\. Boston - 2003_

“Well, that was a nice film, don’t you think?” Jemma asked as they exited the theater, dropping their empty drinks in the trash. “It was very Christmas-y. And I don’t know about you, but it felt like a bit of home to me.”

Fitz shrugged expansively and grinned. “I thought it was silly in spots. Unrealistic. And I don’t want to think about Tony Blair dancing around Number 10.”

Jemma laughed and paused in pulling on her knit hat to lightly elbow him. “It was _supposed_ to be silly! And thankfully we don’t have to imagine Tony Blair dancing; it was Hugh Grant. Much better.”

He rolled his eyes and skipped ahead to push open one of the outer doors of the theater for her. That earned him an eyeroll in return, and they both grimaced as they were hit with a blast of chilly November air, unconsciously moving to walk close enough to bump shoulders and elbows. “Yeah, fine, I get it,” he teased, “you like Hugh Grant.”

Jemma lifted her chin and sniffed. “Actually, I preferred Colin Firth.”

Fitz just grinned again, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Whatever.” Sometimes he still felt like he was finding his footing in their friendship, not quite knowing how far he could go with his acerbic jokes and teasing, but right now felt easy, safe and comfortable. Besides, Jemma still had a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “No, you’re right though,” he added after a pause. “It did feel a bit like home.”

When Jemma had originally asked him if he wanted to go with her so see Love Actually, he’d been a bit unsure. They’d only been speaking for just over a month--he’d never come up with the perfect thing to say to her to get her attention, but being paired up in their chemical kinetics lab had taken the choice out of his hands. To his immense relief, though, after a slightly awkward introduction, they’d immediately hit it off. Before he knew it, they were spending almost all of their free time together, studying, dreaming, collaborating, jumping from one exciting idea to the next. The rate at which their friendship had developed sometimes still left him a bit dizzy, but Fitz wouldn’t trade it for the world. Jemma Simmons found him interesting, and worth her time. It was all he’d wanted and hoped for after first meeting her at Academy orientation--to be her friend.

Surely friends went and saw movies together, didn’t they? Of course they did. Love Actually was billed as a romantic comedy, though. For a moment Fitz had had the wild thought that Jemma had asked him out on a date, but her no-frills attitude about it had calmed his worries. He wouldn’t deny that he’d felt the slightest disappointment at the realization that she _didn’t_ want it to be a date, but he wasn’t surprised. A brilliant, beautiful girl like Jemma would never go for an awkward wreck like him. But he couldn’t be too disappointed, because being her friend was better than nothing, and it was safe territory. He never had liked change.

And they’d had fun. Fitz had genuinely enjoyed the movie, more than his teasing let on, and it really had felt like a slice of home. He wasn’t homesick, not exactly--he’d been away from Scotland long enough now for that to fade--but it was still nice to see something so inherently British.

“I thought it was a lovely sentiment, what the voiceover said at the beginning,” Jemma said after a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence. When he gave her a questioning look, she added, “You know, about Heathrow. About people at the arrivals gate, and how it always made him feel better about the state of things, seeing them so excited to see their loved ones.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled slightly, clearly picturing the shots from the movie in her mind. “I know it would make _me_ feel better.”

Fitz couldn’t help but smile back. “All right, you softie,” he teased again, and her indignant squawk only made his smile grow wider. He leaned in to lightly bump his shoulder against hers. “Well, you’ll get to experience it for yourself in a few weeks, yeah? When you go home over winter break?”

This time, Jemma’s face soured slightly. “Not exactly. I won’t have anyone waiting for me at the airport. I’ve got a transfer from Heathrow to Leeds and then it’s another hour to Sheffield by bus.” She shrugged. “My dad’s meeting me at the station.”

“Well, that’s...close,” Fitz said, trying to put a positive spin on it. “It’s better than not having anyone at all.”

Jemma nodded. “You’re right, it is. It’s always been that way when I’ve traveled, always alone. I suppose we can’t all have things be like they are in films, anyway. Best to be content with what we have.”

The way she looked at him then, all smiles and bright eyes and cheeks flushed with the cold, made a pleasant warmth settle in Fitz’s chest, and they spent the rest of the way home chatting about their upcoming exams and their final project for chem lab. But the faint disappointment with which Jemma spoke about having no one waiting for her stuck in his mind long after he went to sleep and, several weeks later, planted an idea in his mind.

-:-

_1\. Boston - 2004_

Jemma let out a long sigh as the cabin lights finally came on, followed by the chime indicating it was safe to undo their seatbelts. She took a moment to stretch her legs as best she could, then peered out the tiny window next to her, looking at all of the other planes lined up at their gates as her plane taxied past them. It had been a very long flight, and she wanted nothing more than to already be back in her room at the Academy, warm in bed and asleep. But her journey wasn’t over yet--she still had to go by the luggage carousel and find a taxi to take her back to campus. She just hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep during the ride.

Knowing she still had a few moments before they were able to leave the plane, Jemma dug in her purse for her phone. She turned it back on, then immediately texted Fitz, her thumbs flying over the keys.

_Just landed. Home soon!_

She smiled as she hit the ‘send’ button, feeling a burst of excitement at the thought of seeing him again after two weeks apart, though it was tempered by the knowledge that it probably wouldn’t be until tomorrow. He was likely asleep, recovering from jet lag, as he’d flown in himself the day before. He’d sent her an email that she’d read before she left England that morning, wishing her a happy new year and a safe flight. He hadn’t said as much, but she knew he was just as anxious to see her.

It was a bit strange, she thought, being so unexpectedly miserable not having Fitz within easy reach. They hadn’t been friends for very long, but she’d quickly grown used to him constantly being around, always there, whether they were bickering over best lab practices or studying together in contented silence. He’d fit into her life so easily that it was now hard to imagine life without him, and going home for Christmas had put that into sharp focus. Jemma loved her family, but they simply couldn’t keep up with her the way that Fitz could, and nothing interested her as much as he did.

At first she’d been afraid that she was the only one keenly feeling the loss of her best friend--and she could admit to herself that that was what he was, even after so short a time--but when he’d sent her a long, rambling email on her first day home complaining about the dullness of spending nearly twelve hours in coach with only one copy of _Scientific American_ to keep him occupied, she knew she wasn’t alone. Reassured, she’d called him the first chance she got, and paid for it later when they lost track of time and talked for two entire hours. They’d only hung up because Fitz’s mum had dinner ready. Then she had to deal with the gentle teasing of her own family, asking all sorts of questions about the mysterious Scottish engineer she’d befriended.

They’d kept up a steady stream of emails and texts with the occasional phone call for the remainder of their holiday, and Jemma had felt a sense of peace settle over her once she knew she was on her way back to the newfound familiarity of the Academy and Fitz’s blueprints strewn across her room. It was very strange indeed, finding herself not wanting to be without him.

But she didn’t have to worry about that anymore. They would see each other tomorrow as soon as they were both awake and functioning. She used that thought to bolster her spirits as she tiredly shouldered her messenger bag and joined the other passengers in disembarking from the plane.

After making her way up the jet bridge and into the terminal, Jemma fetched her luggage from the baggage claim and tried not to yawn as she waited to go through customs. Once she was finally through, she was so focused on her mission of quickly getting to the taxi rank that she didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings, and almost missed seeing him. When she did, she did a sharp double-take before stopping dead in her tracks, her mouth falling open in shock.

It was Fitz. He was standing near the wall just outside the exit gate from customs, hands shoved in his coat pockets and looking slightly nervous. When their eyes met, he raised his eyebrows as if to say _surprise_?

A wide smile broke over her face. “Fitz!” she cried and, forgetting how tired she was, how rumpled she looked, she ran straight for him, letting go of her luggage and throwing her arms around his neck as soon as she was within reach. “What are you _doing_ here?! Why aren’t you at home asleep? You’ve got to be knackered, I know the jet lag is awful--”

“Woah!” She’d knocked him a couple of steps backward with the force of her hug, and his arms automatically went around her in turn, holding her close as he steadied them both. “Hey, Simmons, hey.” He chuckled into her hair. “Good to see you too.”

“Hush, you silly man, you know I’m happy to see you.” Jemma gave him a squeeze before she pulled back, and was gratified to see Fitz smiling just as widely as her. “No, really, why are you here?”

He shrugged a little, looking away as his smile turned bashful. “Well...I know it’s not Heathrow, but it’s an arrival all the same. Happy new year, Simmons.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart feeling like it had just expanded three entire sizes. “You--you remembered what I said? About the film? Oh, Fitz, I was just being a sap, you know how I can be--”

Fitz’s smile turned wide again, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Worth it just for the look on your face,” he said, sounding supremely pleased (and possibly a bit smug).

Once again, Jemma was left speechless. She wondered when he would stop surprising her, this endlessly fascinating, wonderful, astonishing man. She hoped he never would. Impulsively, she leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. When she stepped back, she saw that the tips of his ears had gone red, and he ducked his head.

“And, ah, for that too.” He coughed into his fist before shoving his hands back in his coat pockets. “Right. So, ready to go, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Feeling like she could smile for days, Jemma took hold of her suitcases again and turned to lead the way toward the taxi rank. “I still can’t believe you did this, just for me. And _you_ called _me_ a softie.”

Fitz kept looking straight ahead as he walked, but he was still smiling, and now his cheeks were tinged a bit pink too. “Yeah, well...just felt like something a friend would do.”  

“A friend, right.” If it were possible, Jemma felt her heart expand even more. For someone who had never really had friends before, the concept was almost foreign. As a result, Fitz’s gesture meant more to her than she could adequately quantify, and somehow she knew that going out of his way like this was just as a big a thing to him as well. She let that knowledge settle over her, that she had a friend--a prickly, brilliant, sometimes infuriating, but ultimately good-hearted friend--and that kept her warm with a smile on her face all the way back to campus.

-:-

_2\. Boston - 2009_

As Jemma approached the baggage claim, she wasn’t surprised to see Fitz standing amongst the small crowd gathered by the carousel, but that didn’t stop her from giving him an exasperated eye roll as she walked up to him, even as she smiled.

“Fitz!” she cried, accepting the styrofoam cup of tea he held out to her. “You know you shouldn’t be here, it’s the middle of the day!”

Fitz merely shook his head and reached over to take the handle of her small rolling suitcase, pulling it behind him as they moved to get closer to the baggage carousel. “I know that,” he said, “but we’re ahead of schedule on all of our projects and I don’t have anything new to design right now, so I’m well within my rights to take the afternoon off. I rarely ever use my leave time as it is.” He tipped his head toward her, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth. “Besides, it’s tradition.”

Jemma smiled back at him. “That it is.”

Ever since that first flight back to Boston at the Academy, Fitz had made a point to be at the gate to greet her every time she came back from a trip away. At first it had been something extra, a wonderful surprise, but when he started showing up without fail no matter how many times she told him he didn’t have to, it became another part of their established routine. Fitz never specifically said he would be there, yet he always was, no matter the time of day or night. Jemma found herself looking forward to him being the first thing she saw after getting off the plane. It was hugely comforting and reassuring seeing him, knowing that she was _home_ , but she would never tell him that. It felt like too much of an admission, of something scraping the boundaries of a relationship that both of them had never dared approach.

“So how was Miami?” Fitz asked as they waited for the carousel to start up.

“Eurgh.” Jemma made a face. “The conference itself was fine. There was a presentation of the application of neurotoxins that I’d really like to study in more detail, as I think it might be well-suited for that gun design you’ve had sitting on the backburner, and I sat in on another presentation on nanotechnologies that you would have found fascinating, but the heat...ugh, the heat was unbearable.” She thought she could feel herself start to sweat again just at the memory of it. “I thought it was awful here in mid-July, but it has _nothing_ on Miami. The humidity was _ghastly_.”

Fitz shuddered in sympathy. “I can only imagine. Your hair _is_ looking a bit frizzy, Simmons, if I say so myself.”

She squawked indignantly and swatted at his arm, which only made him laugh. “Ugh, Fitz!” she cried. “I’d liked to have seen you do better. The one hundred percent humidity would have been a nightmare on your hair. I dare say you’d look like an electrocuted poodle.”

It was his turn to protest. “Oi! You know I take great pains to keep all of this under control,” he said, running a hand over his sandy curls. He had let them grow a little long lately, which she secretly liked, but she would never tell him that, either. “I won’t have you comparing me to a _dog_.”

Jemma smiled as the carousel stuttered into motion and luggage appeared on one end. She perked up, keeping an eye out for her suitcase. “Perhaps a nice Scottish sheep, then?”

Fitz grumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch, something that sounded suspiciously like regret over being so nice as to buy her that tea. She smiled even wider. Then he sighed. “I really am glad you’re back, though, Simmons. The lab just isn’t the same without you.”

“And it wasn’t the same, not having you there to compare notes with,” Jemma complained. “I typed up pages of notes on my laptop just so you won’t have missed anything. Honestly, next time we should just get them to send the both of us, even though it’s strictly a biomedical sciences conference and not your field of expertise. You’d still get a great deal out of it, and it would be better if you could see the presentations for yourself instead of me having to explain all of them. Much more efficient, that way.”

“I agree,” Fitz said firmly. “I’m sure they could manage without us both in the lab for a few days. Their excuse of needing at least one of us around is, frankly, rubbish.” Then he nodded as he sighted her suitcase winding its way toward them, and he stepped forward to pull it off the carousel before she could get to it. “Well, that’s you sorted then. What do you say to some takeaway and Doctor Who tonight? My treat.”

Jemma’s stomach rumbled appreciatively at the thought of Thai food, and she beamed up at him as they turned to head for the taxi rank. “Wonderful! After we’re done, I can show you the notes I took at the conference. Perfect way to end the week. I’m really keen to see what you think about the nanotechnology presentation.”

“Solid plan as usual, Simmons,” Fitz replied, and he smiled back at her. “Solid plan.”

-:-

_3\. Morocco - 2013_

“Everything has been taken care of; you are both cleared to return to your team. Follow me.”

Jemma looked up at the voice, spoken in heavily-accented English. It was the Moroccan naval officer who had piloted the helicopter that had rescued them from the ocean. She watched as he turned to leave, then glanced over at Ward. He looked oddly diminished, damp and tired with a shock blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and she imagined she didn’t look much better. He gave her the barest hint of a reassuring smile, then stood to follow the other man outside. Taking a deep breath and clutching her blanket closer, Jemma did the same 

As they were directed to a Jeep that would take them out to the airfield, the only emotion Jemma could summon up inside of her was dread. A little nervousness, maybe, and a slight twinge of relief, but it was mostly dread. She wasn’t sure what sort of reception she would get from the rest of the team, not after everything that had happened, and what she’d done. She didn’t know what they thought of her. She didn’t know what _Fitz_ thought.

Her stomach turned as she thought back to her last glimpse of him. She could still clearly see his face behind the glass of the lab doors, his eyes wide and mouth open in a scream she couldn’t hear over the wind whipping fiercely around her. She hadn’t wanted him to see her jump, but all the same, she’d been glad to see his face one last time, even though she knew she was hurting him. She was sacrificing herself to save his life--to save all of their lives. That had given her a measure of peace as she’d let the wind carry her away. She was going to die, but her team--her _friends_ \--would live. Fitz would live.

Then suddenly, impossibly, Ward had been there, pressing something to her thigh. She’d cried out as pain radiated up her leg, but there had been no time to think before he’d caught her and pulled the cord on his parachute. She’d felt pressure building in her head, heard a ringing in her ears, and just as it reached a point where she couldn’t bear it anymore--there had been nothing. She’d blacked out.

When she’d come to, they were in the water. Ward had one arm around her, holding her back to his chest, and he’d been treading water with the other, trying to keep them both afloat. When he realized she was awake, he’d told her that he was certain that help was on the way, that Coulson or May would have contacted the proper authorities immediately.

And then he’d told her what had happened--how he’d found Fitz in the cargo bay, struggling to pull on a parachute in a panic. He’d explained that the antiserum had worked, but she’d jumped. Ward had wasted no time in taking the parachute and the antiserum from him and jumping out of the plane after her.

It had settled a terrible sense of guilt in her gut. The knowledge that she had jumped for nothing, that she had been ready to die and Fitz had _watched_ , made her sick. That was why he’d been screaming, she’d realized. Because he knew the antiserum had worked and he was desperately trying to get to her, to stop her, but she’d jumped and he’d _watched_. Knowing he had been fully prepared to jump after her, even without any training, had compounded her guilt. Fitz had been willing to do something very dangerous and very stupid, just to save her life.

It was all she’d been able to think about as they’d awaited rescue. Would Fitz have been able to find her the way Ward had? Would he have even been able to get the parachute on to begin with? What if he’d missed her? She would have died then for sure, and he would have been stranded alone in the ocean, barely able to swim, because of her.

Wrapping her mind around the fact that she was safe and that she couldn’t infect anyone else had been hard enough as it was. Knowing how close both she and Fitz (and Ward, really) had come to death was terrifying.

Now, as their Jeep approached the Bus where it was parked on the tarmac, Jemma felt the enormity of the past several hours swell up again inside her, and she swallowed when she saw that the cargo bay door was already lowered. Suddenly, she didn’t feel prepared to face her team. For perhaps the first time in her life, she dreaded seeing Fitz.

The Jeep came to a stop next to the Bus and both she and Ward climbed out of the back seat. The naval officer in charge of their rescue went ahead of them up the ramp to speak quietly to Coulson, giving him a firm handshake as he did. May stood next to him, her face impassive. Skye and Fitz were nowhere to be found.

Jemma felt her heart lurch in her chest. She was both desperate to see him and anxious not to, but his absence now was telling. With a start, she realized that this was the first time in nearly ten years that Fitz was not on hand to greet her upon coming back from somewhere. Granted, these circumstances were rather unique, but it still felt like a blow to the chest. If he wasn’t here, it meant he didn’t want to see her.

The naval officer turned to leave, nodding at them as he went. Coulson folded his hands in front of him as she and Ward came to a stop in front of him.

“Good to have you both back in one piece.” His words were casual, but the set of his jaw let Jemma know that Coulson wasn’t exactly pleased. She ducked her head, but he still noticed her wandering gaze. “Fitz is upstairs,” he added. “Skye’s monitoring him for signs of concussion.”

Jemma winced and looked at her feet. She knew she’d hit Fitz hard with the fire extinguisher, but she hadn’t expected to be around for the repercussions. Knowing she’d physically hurt him as well only made her feel even worse.

As if on cue, the door at the top of the spiral staircase opened and Fitz himself came rushing out. He stopped, hands gripping the railing, as everyone turned to look up at him. His eyes zeroed in on hers, and when they locked eyes, Jemma felt frozen in place by the intensity of his gaze. He looked like hell: his skin was pale, his eyes bloodshot, his shirt rumpled and his hair in wild disarray.

 _I did this_ , she thought, her stomach sinking.

Then Fitz was moving to walk quickly down the staircase and, without thinking, Jemma moved to meet him, letting her shock blanket fall to land forgotten on the floor behind her. Fitz made a beeline for her and as soon as she was within reach, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her, heedless of the fact that she was still damp with seawater. Then he buried his face in her shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath that shook her to her core.

“Jesus, Jemma,” he whispered, his voice shaky and muffled by her jumper.

The use of her first name lanced through her like a hot knife, and all Jemma could do was wrap her arms around Fitz’s neck and hold on as tightly as he was. He hadn’t jumped, but he’d still saved her life. He was the one who’d had the idea to use the cells from the helmet, and he’d been the one to perfect the delivery mechanism under incredible pressure. She owed Fitz her life. _He_ was the hero.

Fitz made no move to say or do anything else besides clutch her to himself like she would disappear if he loosened his grip. Behind them, Jemma was vaguely aware of movement.

“I want wheels up in five,” Coulson said after a moment. “Ward, Simmons, debrief in my office in thirty.”

She heard Coulson, May, and Ward walk past them toward the staircase, the quiet clanks of their shoes on the metal steps, and then silence. There was a long, extended moment where Fitz and Jemma stood together in the quiet, still holding each other. Then Jemma inhaled.

“I--I should go get a shower and change,” she murmured against his neck.

Fitz flinched as though startled, then quickly released her. He took a large step back from her, ducking his head as one hand went to rest on his hip and the other rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “No, yeah, you--you do that,” he said, his eyes on his feet. “You must be wrecked, you should--definitely do that.”

Jemma, feeling suddenly and strangely bereft without his arms around her, didn’t quite know what to say. “I’ll do my debrief and then...I can come see you?”

“Yeah.” He glanced up quickly at her before looking away again, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah, if you want.”

She didn’t know what to make of his sudden withdrawal and nervousness, or her own sudden need to be as close to him as possible. When she didn’t say anything else, he looked fully up at her and gave her a bracing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She managed a small smile of her own, then nodded at him and turned toward the stairs. Fitz followed. They were both quiet as they made their way upstairs, and when she reached her bunk she paused to look back at him. He was watching her, and when their eyes met he looked away as if he’d been caught staring. Then he slipped into his bunk, sliding the door shut behind him. Biting her lip, Jemma turned to go into her own bunk, immediately reaching for her dresser and the clean, dry clothes held inside it. A warm shower would have her feeling much better, she knew it. Then she would do her debrief, and as soon as that was done she would go see Fitz. She wanted to be near him--a curious tugging she’d never felt before--and she would be sure to thank him properly for saving her life. And then everything would be sorted. She was sure of that.

-:-

_4\. Philadelphia - 2014_

Tired. That was all Jemma felt as she stood to gather her things and step off the plane. Tired. An all-encompassing, mental, physical tiredness.

And fear.

But she couldn’t allow herself to feel that, or to let it show. She was on a very dangerous, important mission and she had to keep her wits about her at all times. She was no longer Jemma Simmons, damaged and heartbroken S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. She was Jemma Simmons, Hydra agent, thankful and glad to have a new and better opportunity to pursue her passion for science. Anything less could spell her doom.

She tried to keep her head down and her gaze focused as she followed the other passengers off the jet bridge and into the terminal, but her heart betrayed her. The response was so ingrained into her psyche that she couldn’t keep herself from looking, for expecting him to be there.

But he wasn’t.

Jemma felt a hollow sort of ache settle in her chest at the sight of the empty terminal, and she had to fight down the sudden, ridiculous urge to cry. She’d spent so much time crying lately that she thought she had completely exhausted herself of tears, but then she’d receive another sharp, jagged reminder that things would never be the same, and she would dissolve all over again. She knew it was silly and illogical, but a small part of her had still somehow believed that if she wished hard enough, she’d see Fitz waiting at the gate for her, healthy and happy and whole.

But he wasn’t.

She was alone. There was no one waiting for her here, and there would be no one waiting for her at the apartment she would now call home. She only had herself to rely on, and she wouldn’t be of use to anyone if she wasted all of her time thinking about what she had lost.

Pressing her mouth down into a thin line, she adjusted the strap of her carryon over her shoulder, then started walking down the concourse in the direction of the baggage claim. _You’re doing this for him_ , she reminded herself sternly. _You’re doing this so he has a chance_. With her gone, Fitz would finally have the chance to fully recover. He could finally start to mend. It hurt, knowing that she made him worse. It hurt so much she could barely breathe sometimes. She hadn’t wanted to leave, but once she’d forced herself to accept that Fitz was better off without her, the decision had been easy.

Maybe, when she came back--if she survived this mission--she would return to find him speaking without pause, his stutter nearly gone, his hands not weak and trembling. She would find him with his confidence restored. Maybe, when she came back, she would be able to look him in the eye without guilt threatening to crush her. Maybe, when she came back, they could begin to mend what was broken between them.

_You’re doing this for him._

-:-

_5\. Glasgow - 2016_

It had been years since Jemma had taken such a long flight--just over twelve hours--and though she wasn’t yet thirty, she felt that perhaps she wasn’t as built for this sort of travel as she used to be. Standing up and stretching her legs as everyone prepared to disembark the plane felt like the ultimate luxury, until her back popped. Then she grimaced and rubbed at the base of her spine. No, she was _definitely_ not used to sitting still for so long.

Any ill thoughts were forgotten, however, as she made it through customs. Her heart sped up at the thought of what she knew was waiting for her at the arrivals gate, a happiness she was only just beginning to accept settling over her like a warm blanket. Sure enough, when she entered the terminal proper she saw Fitz standing near the ticket counter, his hands in his coat pockets. When he saw her, his face lit up, and it was like seeing the sun break through the clouds. A rush of nostalgia hit her square in the chest, and suddenly Fitz was seventeen again, his too-long curls falling over his forehead as he ducked against a shy smile. She felt tears prick at her eyes, and to cover them she rushed toward him, burying her face against his neck when he opened his arms to her.

“Hey, Jem,” he murmured warmly, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “How was your flight?”

“Too long,” she grumbled, letting herself bask in his embrace for a moment before pulling back. “I’m glad it’s over.”

He smiled down at her, but then he saw the wetness in her eyes, and his expression turned concerned. “You okay?” he asked, sweeping a gentle thumb beneath her eye.

Jemma smiled slightly, unable to resist leaning her face into his touch. “I’m fine,” she said, and she meant it. “Just...I’m just happy to see you.”

After a pause during which he searched her eyes with his, the corner of his mouth lifted again in a smirk. “Can’t go more than a week without me, yeah?” he teased. They both knew it was very far from the truth, but if Jemma had her way, she wouldn’t have to be without him ever again. Not by choice, anyway.

She rolled her eyes at him, her smile widening with unmistakable fondness. “I’ve just got off a cross-country, transatlantic red-eye flight, complete with crying baby. I am not to be trifled with right now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Fitz leaned forward to brush a chaste kiss against her lips, then reached out to grab the handle of her rolling bag with one hand and taking hers in the other. “Are you hungry?” he asked as they started off down the concourse. “When was the last time you ate?”

“They fed us on the plane not too long ago, so I’m fine,” Jemma replied. “But some tea to go would be lovely.”

“Tea it is,” Fitz said, and easily steered them in the direction of the terminal’s cafe. 

As he ordered for her, Jemma took the opportunity to just observe him, to take him in and appreciate him and reflect on just how lucky she was to have him and that they were together now, here, right on the cusp of something new. She was still afraid of what the future held sometimes, but she trusted that with Fitz by her side, they could overcome anything that came their way.

The decision to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. was, in the end, easier to make than she had anticipated. In the weeks following Fitz and Coulson’s return from Maveth, Jemma had begun to push everyone away, convinced that _she_ was the curse that was not only destroying her life and Fitz’s, but everyone else’s, too. At first, Fitz had let her. He mistook her distance for grieving over Will, and he had his own demons to contend with. Things weren’t as bad as they had been after she had returned from Hydra, but there was an undeniable strain between them that was slowly eroding her composure. She wanted to be with Fitz more than anything, but she was poison. He knew that now. She’d broken his heart so many times and, from her point of view, he’d finally had enough. He’d given up on them.

It all came to a head after an encounter with Lash that left Lincoln injured and Daisy and Joey badly shaken. Jemma felt wholly responsible. She had been the one to set him free. She was responsible for the deaths of all the Inhumans at the castle and she was now responsible for Lincoln. Fitz had found her in her room in the throes of a full-fledged breakdown, no longer able to contain her own self-recrimination. He’d held her as sobs wracked her body, as she’d spilled every bit of guilt and fear and self-loathing she’d been holding inside. He learned that it wasn’t a lack of love that had caused her to withdraw from him; rather, it was too much. It was like her leaving for Hydra, all over again.

After that, Fitz had quietly fought with Coulson to find a new psychologist to assign to her case. He was even willing to be evaluated himself. It had taken some time to find one, and even longer for Jemma to be able to open up. In the end, the doctor had cleared Fitz for duty, but heavily recommended that Jemma take a leave of absence, effective immediately. The combined trauma of everything she had been through since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. was simply too great. If she didn’t take some time away to properly heal and process, her overall well-being was at risk.

Jemma had felt an odd sort of numbness at the doctor’s decision. She didn’t know where she would go; she didn’t exactly want to return home to her parents, and the only other immediate option--returning to Boston, where she and Fitz had shared an apartment while at SciOps--didn’t hold much appeal to her, either. She fully supported leaving, however. It was probably for the best that she remove herself from her friends’ lives before did any more damage.

Fitz had told her not to think of it like that. She wasn’t being sent into exile as a punishment; it was a chance for her to recover, to find herself again.

When a week had passed and she still hadn’t decided what to, Fitz had approached her one evening with his tablet in hand. “I have something for you,” he’d said, a slight tremble to his voice as he’d given her the tablet. She’d looked down to see photos of a small, beautiful house in what was clearly the Scottish countryside, a traditional crofter’s cottage with stone cladding and mullioned windows, complete with ivy climbing up one corner. Her breath had caught in her throat and she’d looked up at him, speechless.

“I know it’s not _the_ cottage,” Fitz had said, nervously licking his lips. “But it’s _a_ cottage. In Perthshire. It’s--it’s yours, if you want it. I took care of everything. You could get one of the spare bedrooms retrofitted as a small lab, if you wanted, to keep you busy, and--anyway. Right. All yours.”

Jemma had been stunned. Here Fitz was, once again showing the frightening depth of his feelings for her, and it had left her with a lump lodged in her throat. When she just continued to look at the photos in silence, Fitz had taken in a shaky breath, reaching up to scratch at a spot just behind his ear.

“And, ah--I thought--I mean, if you’re willing...if you want...I’d like to come with you.” Her head had shot up then, gaping at him, and though his smile had been hesitant, his eyes were clear and steady. “There’s nothing for me here if you’re gone. You know that. And--I know I said this was a chance for you to find yourself again, but I thought--maybe--maybe we could both find ourselves again. Together.”

Jemma had been afraid. Hell, she’d been terrified. She’d been convinced that if Fitz came with her, disaster would follow and she would never be everything she wanted to be for him. But there was another part of her, the part that still held onto the fantasy of a quiet life in Perthshire with Fitz, that wanted nothing more than to say yes. That was the part of her that had eventually won out.

“Yes,” she’d said, tears welling up in her eyes. She’d set the tablet down on the edge of her bed and stepped forward to wrap her arms around him, turning her face into his neck. “I want you to come with me. Please.”

His shoulders had relaxed, and he’d pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, Jemma,” he’d whispered, and her heart had skipped at finally hearing him say the words out loud. “All I want is to see you happy again. I think we can get you there. Can you trust me?”

She’d nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and had pulled back just far enough to go up on her tiptoes to kiss him. It hadn’t felt like desperation, or sadness or missed chances or regret. It had felt like a promise, like a new beginning, like the first glimpse of happiness after a year of pain.

Fitz had turned in his resignation letter the next morning. Daisy had been understandably hurt by their decision, but she’d said that if anyone deserved the chance to run away from it all and start over fresh, it was them. Besides, it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t keep in touch.

Their decision made, Fitz had gone ahead alone to Scotland to oversee the suggested inclusion of a lab in their new home, while Jemma stayed behind at the Playground to tie up any loose ends with their ongoing projects. They were only apart for two weeks, but Jemma felt Fitz’s absence more keenly than she had expected. The most surprising thing was how much she found herself looking forward to joining him in Scotland, to the point where she was almost giddy. It was an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long, long time, and it took some adjustment. She found herself dreaming of experiments in her new lab, drinking tea in their cozy sitting room, pretending like she knew what she was doing in the little back garden, the occasional consultation she’d promised to do for S.H.I.E.L.D.--she even dreamed of sharing a bed with Fitz. It would be a new facet to their relationship, one that had her stomach unexpectedly fluttering, like she was a teenager with a crush.

But now everything was ready and in place and she was finally with Fitz again. Watching him converse with the cashier at the cafe as if he didn’t have a care in the world, with a complete lack of stiffness to his shoulders, was better than anything she could have hoped for.

He interrupted her reverie by turning to her, holding out a steaming styrofoam cup of tea. “Here we are,” he said. “Dash of cream and one sugar, just how you like it.”

“Oh!” Jemma startled slightly, but accepted the tea with a grateful smile. She immediately took a sip, then sighed in contentment. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” Fitz smiled and took hold of her suitcase again. “Ready to go? We’ve still got a bit of a drive ahead of us and I know you’re tired.” As they started walking again, his eyes brightened. “I can’t wait for you to see the cottage, Jem. The lab installation went like a dream, even if the contractor was confused by why we’d need or want one out in the country. I even managed to find you a small fume hood that doesn’t take up the entire space, and a really nice autoclave that I think you’ll like…”

Jemma let him prattle on all the way through the terminal, and then on out into the car park. It was immensely reassuring to hear him talk excitedly about things the way he’d used to, the way _they_ had used to, and it gave her hope for their future. She knew it would take awhile for her fear to subside, for the various hurts she still carried with her to fully disappear, but this was a good start. There were no expectations for her here, no standards to live up to except her own. She trusted Fitz to take care of her when she couldn’t do it herself, and vice versa. It might go slowly, but she was starting to believe that they really could find happiness again, the way it should have always been--together.

-:-

_+1. Perthshire - 2016_

Fitz glanced over at Jemma, fast asleep in the passenger seat of the car, and let himself smile. She’d tried valiantly to stay awake for the course of their hour-long drive out into the countryside, but her long flight and the steady rhythm of the car on the road had lulled her back under. She looked so peaceful. The lines of her face were smooth and relaxed, not tight and drawn the way they’d always been back at the Playground. It hadn’t even been a full day away and she was already looking better. He could even let himself believe that just his mere presence had something to do with it, too.

He let his gaze linger for a few seconds longer before turning back to focus on the road ahead. He wouldn’t deny that being back home had given him some measure of peace, too, and that two weeks without the constant dread and stress of the base had been like a balm to his soul. He could only hope that it would have the same effect on Jemma, and that it wouldn’t be long before she was truly smiling again.

Soon, they finally reached the small cottage that was their new home, and Fitz slowed down before easing the car onto the gravel drive that led up to it. Jemma stirred as the car rolled over the uneven ground.

“Fitz?” she murmured. “Are we there?”

“Just arrived,” he answered, and brought the car to a halt. As he threw the gearshift into park and switched off the ignition, Jemma sat up and stretched, blinking away sleep so she could take everything in with wide, curious eyes. The sun had just sunk below the horizon, the last dying embers of daylight casting a golden glow against the front of the cottage. Anticipating a night time arrival, Fitz had left a few lamps on inside, and the warmth they projected through the windows gave it the perfect picture of coziness.

Fitz kept an eye on her as they both got out of the car, Jemma pulling her coat closed against the chilly air, and he went around to the boot to pull out her luggage. Her eyes were shining when he came to a stop next to her, letting go of her suitcase handles. “Fitz, it’s beautiful,” she said. Her eyes traveled from the hedge that lined the side of the property, to trees that dotted the banks of the stream just visible behind the cottage, to the brambles that climbed the lattice set against the side wall. It wasn’t in bloom, but it held the promise of a burst of color come springtime. Jemma smiled. “It’s perfect.”

A sense of accomplishment settled over him, and he moved to carefully wrap his arms around Jemma’s waist from behind. When she relaxed into his hold, his heart pulsed briefly with joy as he set his chin on her shoulder. “You think so?” he asked.

“Oh, I know so.” She paused before leaning even more back against his chest. “I love you.”

Fitz closed his eyes as something like pure happiness washed through him. He still wasn’t used to hearing Jemma say it, and he wasn’t sure he ever would be. He would never take her love for granted. He turned his face to press a lingering kiss against her cheek. “And you haven’t even seen the inside yet.” He gave her a quick squeeze before letting go. “Come on, let’s get your bags inside, and then I can give you the full tour.”

True to her word, Jemma loved everything. She loved the overstuffed sofa in the sitting room, the double-stacked ovens in the kitchen, the promised fume hood in the lab, and the upgraded bathroom. The tour ended in their shared bedroom, which he showed off with a certain amount of bashfulness. Then she surprised him by drawing him into a long, deep kiss that gradually grew more and more heated until his heart was beating a staccato rhythm against his chest and her fingers were working the buttons of his shirt. What better way to christen their new home, Jemma asked with only a hint of shyness, than to properly break in their newly-purchased bed?

He couldn’t come up with much of an argument against that.

So they did their best to set aside their troubled past and open themselves up to the possibility of a bright future beside each other, and learned to move together in ways they’d only ever dreamed of. Later, as they lay entwined beneath the sheets, holding each other as their hearts slowed, Fitz closed his eyes again and smiled, revelling in the feel of Jemma pressed warm and soft against him, of her hair sliding between his fingers as he stroked his hand through it.

What better way, indeed.  


End file.
